


A Little Broken, A Little New

by nameless_bliss



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Background Relationships, Episode Related, Episode: s05e11 Meet the Parents, Family Feels, Gen, Johnny Rose is a Good Dad, Maybe the found family was the biological family with us the whole time, Missing Scene, POV David Rose, Present Tense, These men don't know how to talk about their feelings but they're trying, supportive parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nameless_bliss/pseuds/nameless_bliss
Summary: “What were you going to say to them?”Johnny turns around. “What’s that?”“The Brewers. When you came to their room. You didn’t know I was already there.” David takes a sudden interest in one of his rings, just so he has something to look at. “What were you going to say?”With a gift basket delivered, a would-be crisis averted, and six hours left until Patrick's "surprise" party, David and Johnny have a conversation about a conversation.
Relationships: David Rose & Johnny Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 40
Kudos: 376





	A Little Broken, A Little New

The door to room 9 closes behind them, and David takes what feels like his first breath in hours. 

Okay. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. Which means it doesn’t matter that for a while, things were very much _not_ okay, things were almost horrible, they were _this fucking close_ to being an actual fucking disaster— 

David makes himself take another breath. Because it’s okay. 

The party is in six hours, and Patrick is going to be there, and the Brewers are going to be there, and it’s all going to be fine. David has done literally everything he possibly can to make sure that it’s going to be fine. He’s done, now. He just has to wait.

He has to wait, and he has to remember to breathe. 

Johnny clears his throat (god, David had almost forgotten he’s still there). “Well,” he says, “now that that’s—since that went. I should…” He clasps his hands together. Then he does it a few more times, like he’s trying to find the most comfortable clasped-hand position. “Someone should be manning the desk. I’ll just…” he makes a vague gesture over his shoulder, and starts back toward the office.

“What were you going to say to them?”

Johnny turns around. “What’s that?” 

“The Brewers. When you came to their room. You didn’t know I was already there.” David takes a sudden interest in one of his rings, just so he has something to look at. “What were you going to say?”

There’s a long moment of very loud silence. Then Johnny makes an awkward, uncertain noise. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I—I wanted to apologize for… what I said, how they found out—”

“That wasn’t your fault,” David cuts in, because they’re not doing that. He’s already decided to put that on the back burner for now. He’s decided that he’s not going to think about how this started, and everything Patrick decided to keep from him, and how easy it would have been for David to have been the one who accidentally outed his boyfriend against his will, how he only avoided it by sheer fucking _luck—_

Back burner. 

“Oh. Well that’s… alright.” Johnny doesn’t sound particularly convinced. “But still, I think apologizing would be, well. The decent thing to do.”

David almost laughs, because that’s an absurd thing to hear out of the mouth of Johnny Rose. But he waves a hand instead, aiming for dismissiveness. “Fine. Yeah, that’s. Fine.” He reaches for the door to his room.

“And, I suppose I just,” Johnny says, a little too loudly for the nonchalance in his tone to be believable, “I thought that… given what they’d just heard, what they’d found out. I thought that, as someone who—who also has a son that’s… For them finding out that their son, also has—that he also—”

“Oh my god, Dad, please don’t finish that sentence.”

“No! No, I just mean, I thought it might… help. I thought it might be helpful for them to hear it from another parent. Someone who’s… been in the same situation.”

“The _same_ situation?” David snaps. “You think you’ve been in their situation? They were blindsided. Don’t act like you and Mom didn’t think you had me figured out _years_ before I actually told you anything. You don’t get to pretend like you were surprised.”

“Oh you’ve always found ways to surprise us, David.”

David… doesn’t know how to take that. 

Because he’s not totally oblivious. He knows that finding out he _isn’t_ gay is enough to throw most people off of their expectations. He knows he still told his parents something they weren’t expecting—and, for Johnny, something he wasn’t prepared to hear. 

But it almost doesn’t—it almost seems like that’s only part of what Johnny’s saying. Because he’s sort of smiling, and it almost sounds like he’s… like it’s more than just that. 

“I just wanted to offer to talk to them, if they were open to that,” Johnny continues, still using that voice that’s so uncharacteristically… something. “I thought they might want to hear, you know…” he makes a few aborted noises, like he’s tripping over the words faster than he can pick them. “That even if they were a little… even if they _were_ caught off-guard, that it doesn’t—that they might feel like they don’t fully. Understand. And I wanted to make sure they know that they don’t have to feel… that even if they’re not sure they understand it perfectly yet, they can still be alright with it. Or… something like that.”

David twists his rings, over and over and over until they chafe his skin. He doesn’t know what to do with any of this. He doesn’t know what Johnny expects him to do, or why the fuck he thought this was something David could handle being dropped on him today, _now,_ with everything else. There’s too much, there’s too fucking much going on right now, and that’s why David can’t deal with this. That’s the only reason why it feels overwhelming, and why he feels so strange about it, and why he has to swallow back something that’s suddenly lodged in his throat. 

So he folds his arms, and tilts his head in what he’s sure is a perfectly disinterested expression. “Well, it doesn’t matter. They were fine with it, so. You shouldn’t have bothered,” he says, and it’s so much crueler than he wants to be, because right now, being cruel feels safer than any other option. 

But Johnny either doesn’t notice the harshness in his tone, or he doesn’t care. “Yes, in hindsight I guess I—I shouldn’t have been worried.” He tries clasping his hands again, and it still looks just as awkward. “I should have known that they would… I should have known that when you have a son like, that. One who’s grown up to accomplish so much. Starting a business, creating something that’s strong and successful, and with a good partner, _being_ a good partner, finding someone so—good. So good for him. Someone who makes him happy. Making a good life for himself, out of nothing. When you have a son like that, it’s not hard to be proud of him. And even if it hasn’t always—if there have been times when, when it didn’t always _seem_ like it, I’m sure they’ve still… I’m sure they love him, more than anything. Because it’s easy, with a son like that. Like—” he catches himself. One of his eyebrows tics up a little, and then one corner of his mouth tics up with it. “Like Patrick.” 

And then he stops, and he waits. Like it’s David’s turn to say something. Like David could _possibly_ have a response to that. David can’t even keep his fucking hands from shaking in the crooks of his elbows; how can he be expected to fucking _speak?_

Even if he could speak, he knows he’d just say something horrible. He’d be mean, he’d be an absolute asshole because he’s safe like that, and this feels so dangerous, so… open. He feels too vulnerable, too visible. He wants to make a mean, awful joke, something mocking, something that’ll end this fucking conversation and this moment and this huge, suffocating _thing_ in his chest. Just one really, _really_ vicious bit of sarcasm, and that’ll do it. That’ll kill it. It would be so easy.

But, he’s not going to do that. It’s counter-intuitive, it goes against every impulse and instinct and scrap of self-preservation that David has, but… still. He’s not going to do the safe thing, right now. Instead, he’s going to do the… the decent thing. The good thing. The fucking terrifying thing.

David squeezes his arms until the pressure of his nails is painful. He needs that sharp bit of discomfort, because all he can think about is crawling out of his skin so he can run and hide, and if he doesn’t give himself a distraction he’s afraid he might have to rip himself to pieces so he can do it. He sniffs, because he wants to sound condescending, but it backfires because it just sounds wet. His throat is tight. He hates absolutely everything about this.

But he’s going to do it. He is. 

God, how is he supposed to do this?

“I’m sure—” he tries to start, but he stops himself immediately when he hears how ugly his voice sounds. He clears his throat, and lets himself wait until he’s the slightest bit more confident about what he’s going to say. 

“I’m sure that he—that Patrick… knows. Knows all of that. And yeah, they used to be—They weren’t always great. They used to be kind of horrible.” David shoves aside the guilt he feels for saying this like it’s actually about the Brewers, because he knows he can’t do this otherwise. It feels childish to tip-toe around it like this, but he knows this is the only way he can get it out of his mouth. Using them as a proxy is the only barrier David has between himself and the truth of what he’s saying, and that protection is wafer-thin, but he’s going to cling to it as tightly as he’s clinging to the sleeves of his Rick Owens. “But they’re—they’ve been working on it, and it’s… it’s different, now. Better. They’ve gotten a lot better. And…” David swallows, and blinks, and looks down at his shoes. “And I— _he,_ he. Loves them, too. He loves them a lot.”

David lets out a shaking breath, and waits for the moment to pass, waits to feel like he’s standing on solid ground again. 

When he can finally make himself look up, Johnny is smiling at him. David feels exposed and stupid and weak and small and it’s good. It feels really, really good. Dad is smiling at him, and. And it’s nice.

But then Johnny takes a step closer, and starts raising his arms.

“Oh, no, I don’t think—We don’t. We don’t have to—” David’s head shrinks back toward his shoulders like a retreating turtle, but Johnny isn’t deterred. David gets wrapped up in a stiff, solid hug that’s too firm and too awkward and they don’t _do this,_ they don’t hug, his Dad doesn’t just _hug_ him like they’re… people who hug.

When he realizes there’s no escape, he sighs. “Okay, fine.” His arms hover at his sides for a moment while he decides what he’s supposed to do with them. Where is supposed to put his hands in a dad hug? He eventually figures that a few quick, polite pats on the back are probably his best option.

Johnny doesn’t let go, though. Even though this is _clearly_ as long as a hug is supposed to be—it’s _longer_ than this hug should be; this hug shouldn’t even _be_ in the first place. But David is stuck with Johnny’s arms around him and his chin hooked over Johnny’s shoulder. It’s smothering, and… strange. Because they don’t do this. It’s different. It’s strange, because it’s new. Johnny’s arms are too tight, and he’s too close, David isn’t used to being this close to him. He can smell Johnny’s aftershave, he’s so close that David can pick out the scents of smoke and citrus, clear as day… 

Oh. 

David knows that smell. It’s one of theirs; it’s an aftershave from the Apothecary. 

Maybe it’s… fine. For a minute. Maybe it’s okay, just for a second or two. 

Just for a second, David closes his eyes, and lets himself hug his Dad. He’s going to stop it in a second, obviously. It’s not a _thing._ It’s just a little… moment of indulgence. For Johnny. David’s just humoring him, because Johnny clearly needs this for some reason. And that’s fine. David can put up with this for a few more seconds, for Johnny’s sake. He’s selfless like that. 

And really, it’s not _too_ terrible to put up with all of this, to tolerate a hug, and kind words, and the mushy, disgusting stuff like pride and acceptance and love. It’s tolerable. It’s fine. He’s fine with it. He wants— 

He wants Patrick to have it. He wants Patrick to have this, this exact moment, this exact feeling. Because Patrick _does_ have it, he just doesn’t know it yet. Right now he’s sitting alone in his apartment on his birthday, and he’s scared out of his mind because he doesn’t know that he has _this._ There are only a few hours left until the party but David doesn’t know if he can survive waiting that long, because every second that Patrick doesn’t get to have this feeling is a travesty, it’s a fucking waste. He needs this, he _has_ this, and he needs to know it. Because this is… worth it. It’s worth it. Having this is worth how terrifying it is for David to let himself have it. 

And—fuck. This… _fuck._

David takes one last breath, gives Johnny one last squeeze… and that’s it. That’s enough. That’s too much. 

He steps back, but Johnny doesn’t take the hint.

“Okay, Dad, this is…” David tries to extract himself as politely as possible. “This is a lot, now, can we just—”

Johnny snaps back to his senses. “Oh! Right, yes, yes.” He pulls back, but he keeps one hand on David’s shoulder, still patting him gently, and it’s so awkward that David kinda wants to die about it, and his face is still doing that thing that makes David feel itchy.

“So I have—” David starts.

“Of course, of course, you’ve got—”

“—a lot of party stuff to get done—”

“Right, big night! Big night. I mean, because of the party, not—not because of anything _else_ that will be happening—”

“Yeah, Dad, it’s fine.”

“No, no, I know it’s—of course it’s a big… it’s an important moment, ah, for, of course it’s important for anyone in the, for anyone who’s LGBTQ, to—”

“Oh _god,_ Dad, stop!”

“Did… I forget a letter?”

His face is so open; it’s so sincere. And after a moment, all David can do is let out a soft, helpless laugh.

But then he rolls his eyes and says, “P, Dad. You forgot P,” because he can’t resist being a bit of a shit. 

Johnny blinks, once, twice… and then his eyes go so wide it looks like they might even get bigger than his eyebrows. “Oh, yes! Yes, I—I know there’s… Of course there’s a P, I know, I know there—”

David laughs again. “It’s fine, don’t hurt yourself. Just say queer.”

“Right. Right.” Johnny clasps his hands again, and then they’re right back where they started, back to normal, back to something awkward and spacious and much, much safer. “Well, I’ll… I should get back to it.”

“Yeah.” David nods stiffly. “Yeah, Stevie, um. Stevie’s picking me up soon so we can try making the Cafe look halfway decent, for tonight.”

Johnny nods along with him, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t take those few steps back toward the office. He keeps standing there, nodding, looking like he has no plans whatsoever to finally fucking end this. 

So David makes the executive decision to do it for him, before Johnny has the chance to say something… else. Something else like the rest of it. 

“So, I’m gonna go,” David points toward his door with both hands, and he still must be thrown off because it ends up looking dangerously close to _finger guns,_ ugh. 

“Yes, that’s… good. Yeah.” Johnny starts backing up the sidewalk toward the office door, still nodding and rubbing his hands together. “So I’ll see you tonight, then, David, I’ll just be here, until then. So if you need anything, I’ll—”

“Mm-hm, yep, thank you!” David escapes into his room and closes the door with a definitive _thud._ He can hear Johnny outside, still rambling a goodbye to no one, trailing off until he’s too far away for David to make out the words. 

David waits until it’s quiet, until he’s sure Johnny is really gone, and it’s really over. 

Okay.

That’s… done. 

Whatever the fuck that was, it’s done. 

Alright.

David shakes out his hands, trying to slough off the past few minutes—hell, the last few hours, the last traces of everything this fucking fuck of a day has thrown at him. He shakes his head too, to help snap himself out of it, and because flailing makes it easier for him to brush any errant moisture away from his eyes without having to acknowledge what he’s doing.

Okay.

He gets his phone out of his pocket to confirm that there are still… five-ish hours left until the party starts, and all of this ends. That’s fine. He can do that. It’s fine. 

He should text Stevie to see if she’s on her way yet. Or he could review the party moodboard one more time before they start decorating. There’s _something_ he can do right now to be productive, he’s sure of it. 

His thumb hovers over the screen.

He opens his text thread with Patrick. The most recent messages are from early this morning: harmless, innocuous, not knowing any of this was going to happen.

David’s thumb itches to type. He needs to say something, but he doesn’t know what. He knows what he _wants_ to say, but he knows he can’t say it, and he’s not sure if he can trust himself not to. It feels like if he sends anything at all it’ll open the floodgates, and he won’t be able to keep himself from saying _don’t worry, i_ _t’s fine, it’s all fine, it’s great, they’re great, they love you, you don’t even know how loved you are, your parents love you—and my_ _parents love you, and I love you, we all love you and we all found you and what are the fucking odds of that?_

He can’t say any of it. Not right now, anyway. But he will. There are just a few more hours left, and then he can say all of it. He can wait. Because he knows it’ll be worth it. It’ll all be so, so worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, Johnny Rose went to that motel room, by himself, ready to protect his new son, and maybe I'm still emo about it! The Roses didn't always know how to love and be loved, and there's nothing I care about more than getting to watch them learn. 
> 
> Title taken from "North" by Sleeping at Last.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! I'd always love to hear from you, either here or over on my [tumblr](https://my-nameless-bliss.tumblr.com)! Stay inside, wash your hands, and take care of yourselves!


End file.
